


The Early Arrival

by tuppenny



Series: All Ways [6]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy, Premature Birth, labor, one or two bad words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-26 19:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15008084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuppenny/pseuds/tuppenny
Summary: Davey and Chaya's baby enters the world sooner than expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Davey and Chaya (whom Eleanor has nicknamed 'Aunt Night') are 29 and have been married for 2 years. 
> 
> Rosie is married to Charlie (Crutchie), and they have two children: Daniel (age 5) and Edward (nearly 3). 
> 
> Jack and Katherine have been married for 8 years and have two children: Eleanor is a little over 3 1/2, and Nicholas is 14 months.

**November 1912**

Katherine was sitting on the couch with Nicky in her lap when Ellie came running up to her. “Mommy, c’n me an’ Danny use your typewriter? We wanna make a paper.”

Katherine smiled. “How about you start with the illustrations, baby, and then I’ll type your stories up for you later, okay? I’m talking with Aunt Rosie and Aunt Night right now.”

“Okay,” Ellie said, dashing away again. “Danny! Let’s draw the pitchers first!” Katherine, Rosie, and Chaya watched as Daniel nodded seriously and followed Eleanor over to the children’s art desk in the corner of the family room. 

“It seems newspapers run in their blood,” Chaya said, her eyes twinkling.

“Eleanor is dead set on running _The World_ someday,” Katherine said wryly, stroking Nicholas’ dark hair as he rested his head on her chest. “And although I mean that in the paper sense, I don’t think she’d mind running the actual world, either.”

“She’s got the charisma for it,” Rosie said, chuckling. “Danny would follow her to the ends of the earth.”

“It is amazing how such small children can have such distinct personalities,” Chaya said, shaking her head. She winced slightly and placed a hand on her swollen stomach, sucking in a tight breath. “I wonder what this little one will add to the mix.” 

“I do hope it’s a girl,” Katherine said fervently. “It would be lovely for Eleanor to have another little girl to play with.” 

“I hope we’re _all_ having girls,” Rosie said, kissing Edward on the head as he came over to show her the wooden truck of Nicky’s that he was playing with. “We’re outnumbered enough as it is.”

The women laughed—what with their sons, their husbands, and their husbands’ friends, larger gatherings could be overwhelmingly masculine. 

“Thank heavens for Julia and her four girls,” Katherine said, referencing Elmer’s wife. “Still, I hope we add to the total.” Chaya and Rosie nodded. “You hear that, baby?” She added, poking at her own large belly. “Be a girl, okay?” 

“I’m so jealous you two are due around the same time,” Rosie sighed. “You’ve had each other the whole way through, an’ then you’ll have your darlin’ little ones to hold in just a few weeks, too, while I’ve still got months an’ months to go!” 

Katherine rolled her eyes and elbowed Rosie gently. “We _told_ you we were trying; it’s not our fault you took the boys to New Mexico for the summer while Charlie stayed here!” Rosie gave a fake pout, and Katherine smirked. “Besides, being pregnant along with you is my idea of a nightmare, Rosie. Watching you stay sweet and pretty the whole time while I swell up like a whale and waddle around like an angry gorilla? No thanks.” Rosie giggled. “Being pregnant with Chaya is fine, though, because even though she’s stayed pretty,” Katherine continued, giving Chaya an appraising look, “She’s been far from sweet.” 

“Was I ever sweet?” Chaya deadpanned, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Katherine laughed. “That’s why we’re friends.”

“And here I thought it was because you liked my baking,” Chaya joked. “Now that I know you like me for my personality, I suppose I will stop making you challah and rugelach.” 

“Noooooo!” Katherine moaned, stretching an arm across the coffee table to grip Chaya’s wrist. “I take it back, I take it all back! You’re tolerable at best, and I’d never spend time with you if it weren’t for your food!”

“That is better,” Chaya said, her voice light as she shifted in her chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. “My suspicions have been confirmed.”

Rosie laughed. “Chaya, your kid is gonna add sarcasm to the mix. That’s my bet.” 

“Not for a while yet,” David said, entering the room, Jack and Charlie following close behind. He moved to stand behind his wife and pressed a tender kiss to her hair. “We still have at least a month before we even meet the little one, and I sincerely hope she doesn’t start off sarcastic.”

Jack snorted. “With you two as parents? Her first cry is gonna be sarcastic.” 

Charlie barked a laugh, but Davey didn’t even give Jack the dignity of a response, choosing instead to lay a hand on Chaya’s shoulder so she could give his fingers a squeeze. “ _Vi geyt es, duvshanit?”_ He asked softly.    

“ _Gut,”_ she murmured back. “ _Alts gut_.” 

He nodded in satisfaction and withdrew, and Jack motioned to himself, Charlie, and David. “Ace? We’re gonna head out real quick—the boys and I were thinking of picking up some D-E-S-E-R-T for the, uh, evenin’ editions of ourselves?” 

Chaya’s lips twitched and Katherine burst into laughter. “That’s fine,” she said, her cheeks pink with amusement. “Just don’t bring back any coyotes, okay?” 

Jack and Charlie exchanged a confused look while David shook his head in fond exasperation. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll leave the coyotes and cacti where they belong.”

Katherine motioned Jack over to explain the joke to him while the other two men went to pull on their coats, and Chaya and Rosie dutifully admired the scribbly drawings that Daniel and Eleanor were presenting for inspection. After a few seconds Jack huffed, tweaked Katherine’s nose, and said sternly, “You’re lucky you’re a girl, missy, or we’d have to take this outside.” Katherine pushed out her lower lip and gave him her best puppy-dog eyes, and Jack laughed, grinned, and kissed her full on the lips. Nicky yawned in Katherine’s arms, and the men departed, on the hunt for something sinfully sweet.

 

*

 

By the time the men came back, loaded down with enough cake to feed an army, Nicholas was down for a nap, Edward was crying in Rosie’s lap, and Eleanor was in timeout.

“Do I want to know?” Jack asked warily.

“No,” Katherine said, biting the word off in frustration. “She—no. We’ll discuss later.”

Jack pulled a face and went to the kitchen to pull out plates and cutlery, while Charlie went over to Rosie’s side to comfort Eddie with news of cake. As the toddler’s sobs began to quiet, everyone moved to the dining room table that Jack and Katherine pulled out for get-togethers such as this one. Their apartment was too small to have an actual dining room, but they had a drop-leaf table stored in the basement and squashed it into the living room when necessary.

“You two better stop havin’ kids,” Charlie commented, pushing Danny’s chair in behind him so that the five-year-old was sitting snugly at the edge of the table. “Ain’t got enough room in this apartment f’r no more.” 

“Trust us, we know,” Katherine said dryly. “Even just adding this third little one is going to be a stretch, though it’ll be alright until the baby is too old to sleep in our room anymore.” 

“We been lookin’ at new places,” Jack said, setting a plate with chocolate cake in front of his wife.

“You know it’s cheaper to stop having kids than it is to move,” Davey quipped, his lips quirked slightly upwards.

“Tell that ta Kath, not me,” Jack said, feigning innocence. “She can’t keep her hands off me, that one.” 

“It’s not my fault you’re irresistible,” Katherine said, batting her eyelashes and playing along. “You know cheeky boys make my knees go weak.” 

“How ‘bout manly, handsome former strike leaders, huh?” Jack asked, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“I think I’m going be sick,” David grumbled. “Chaya, make them stop? They listen to you.” He turned to the seat next to him and did a double-take when he realized his wife was still in the armchair by the coffee table. “Do you not want cake?” He asked, confused. 

Chaya shook her head slightly and remained seated, her jaw clenched.

David frowned, taking in her flushed cheeks, the sweat gathering on her forehead, and the way she’d braced her arms tightly across her upper ribcage. “Are you alright?”

Everyone else at the table paused in the middle of eating and looked over at Chaya, who was clearly not alright.

“Fine,” she hissed. 

“Liar,” Katherine said calmly. “What’s wrong?”

Chaya shook her head, refusing to speak, and Rosie stood up and squatted down next to her friend’s side. “Is it your stomach?”

Chaya nodded, grinding her teeth in pain. David blanched, shoved his chair back from the table, and raced to kneel in front of her, his hands on her knees. “Chaya. Chayele. Talk to me, Chaya. What is it, _yafa sheli_ , what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she said, beads of sweat beginning to slide down her face. “It’s too early. This is nothing.” 

“Ohhh, darlin’,” Rosie said, rubbing Chaya’s arm gently. “Babies don’t care if it’s too early.” 

“It could be fake contractions,” Katherine offered, rising from the table but not wanting to crowd Chaya. “We can move you to our bed for you to ride them out.”

“No,” Chaya said, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Kath’s had both our babies in that bed,” Jack soothed, “You’ll be more comfortable there, an’ we’ll call a midwife ta get ya checked out.”

“No!” Chaya repeated, tears beginning to slide from the corners of her eyes. “It’s too early.” 

David tried to keep his voice steady, but the worry in his eyes gave him away. “We need to call someone who knows what they’re doing,” he said. “We need to get you a midwife or a doctor or—”

“ _No!”_ Chaya cried, her eyes flying open. “Just—just take me home, Dovid. They are fake contractions, like Katherine said, and I will feel better at home.” 

He cast an agonized look at Rosie, who gave him a sympathetic look. “There’s really no right answer, Dave,” she said. “I say we do whatever makes Chaya comfortable.”

“Home,” Chaya insisted, sweat gathering at the bow of her lips.

“Okay,” he said softly, stroking her cheek. “I’ll go call a cab.”

“Get a midwife once you’re home, though,” Rosie whispered to him as he passed by, and he nodded.

“Papa,” Daniel said, tugging at Charlie’s sleeve, “Is Aunt Night gonna be okay?” 

“She’s gonna be fine,” Charlie said. “Sometimes babies think they want to come a bit early and then decide they don’t. No need to worry. Tell me about the paper you’re writing with Eleanor—what’s the headline?” 

Charlie managed to keep his boys mostly distracted while Rosie made Chaya as comfortable as possible and Davey fretted out on the sidewalk with Jack, waiting for the cab to arrive. “Tell him to wait?” Davey said, clapping Jack on the arm as the cab driver pulled up, and Jack nodded. Davey barely even waited for Jack to agree before dashing back up to Chaya and lifting her gently into his arms.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “You do not need to carry me. It stopped. It does not hurt anymore.”

“Please, _neshama_ ,” he said, still jittery. She sighed, and he pressed a kiss to her hair, thankful that she was so much smaller than he was; he didn’t want her attempting four flights of stairs right now. He slid her into the backseat and gave their home address to the cabbie, who nodded, completely unfazed.

“Ring us when you get a chance?” Jack called as they pulled away from the curb, and Davey nodded before turning back to his wife and placing a hand over hers.  

_“Na?”_

“ _Beser_ ,” she said, smiling up at him.

“Okay,” he said, pressing a hand to her forehead to gauge her temperature. “You’ll tell me if that changes?”

“Yes.” 

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and let her lean her head against him, listening to her soft breaths. They were nearly home when he felt her body go rigid and heard her moan slightly. “Chayele?”

“Another fake contraction. I am fine.” 

He looked at her, worried. “Can you humor me and let me take you to a hospital? Just to be sure?” 

She turned to hide her head in his chest. “It cannot be real. She’s not due for another month.”

“It’s not real,” he agreed. “But we’ll feel better knowing that for sure.” 

“Okay,” she said, groaning softly. “Ohhhh.”

David reached up to the front seat to redirect the cab driver to the nearest hospital, and the man changed course without comment.

“I am fine again,” Chaya said moments later, her expression mulish. “Please, let’s go home.” 

“Just to be sure,” David said again, tracing the curve of her belly. “It can’t hurt to be sure.”

Ten minutes later they were pulling up at the hospital, and Chaya was grunting in pain once more. She hobbled out of the cab, and Davey tried to lift her up to carry her into the waiting room, but she smacked his hand and cried out. _“Rir mich nit an!”_

“Okay, okay,” he said, feeling the blood drain from his face as he watched his wife sink onto the cobblestones in front of the hospital. “Just… just stay there, okay? I’m going to get help. I’ll be right back, don’t move…” 

As he ran inside, he kicked himself for giving such inane instructions—where the heck did he think his heavily pregnant wife was going to wander off to? She couldn’t make it into the hospital, much less go off on a stroll. And oh, heaven help them, she was clearly giving birth, and there was no way these were fake contractions, and why couldn’t he find a nurse in this hospital… He accosted the first uniformed person he saw and frantically explained the situation. 

The nurse was nonplussed. “Is this your first?”

“Yes,” he gasped, breathless.

“It takes the first one a while to come,” the nurse said calmly. “We’ve got time, sir. Where did you say your wife was?”

“On the sidewalk in front of the hospital,” Davey said, his voice breaking. “She wouldn’t let me carry her inside.”

“I understand,” the nurse said kindly. “Pregnant women can be very determined.” He laughed shakily, and the nurse smiled. “I’ll go get a wheelchair, and between the two of us we’ll get her onto a maternity ward, sir. No need to worry.” 

“Okay,” Davey said, running his thumb back and forth over the fingers of his hand. “Right. Thank you.” 

Between the two of them, they were able to ease Chaya into the wheelchair and get her onto a maternity ward; she only tried to climb out of the chair once, protesting again that it was too early, and she was fine, and could they please just let her go home…

“At least let the ward nurse give you a look, Mrs. Jacobs,” said the nurse Davey had found. “She’ll be here in just a minute.” She guided Chaya onto a hospital bed and motioned David to a chair on the opposite side. “Sit tight,” she said, and disappeared. 

“Dovid?” Chaya said, her voice trembling. 

He reached his hand out to hold hers. “Yes?”

“I am scared.”

“It’s going to be okay,” he said, squeezing her hand tightly.

“You do not know that.”

“No.”

“Thank you for saying it anyway,” she said, trying to blink back tears. “I am so very, very scared.”

He leaned in to kiss her tears away, feeling her eyelashes tickle at his lips. The ward nurse walked in soon after and motioned David away before pulling the curtains shut around the bed, and David blinked, taking in his surroundings for the first time. The ward was a long, rectangular room, with ten beds arranged on either side, some of them with the curtains pulled shut in front of other nervous expectant fathers, some with the curtains open to leave a full view of women in various stages of labor. Suddenly the noise and stink of the place washed over him, and he felt his legs begin to shake uncontrollably as the screams and the sweat and the tears assaulted his senses. He pulled himself back together when the ward nurse emerged moments later, forcing his juddering legs to still. 

“She’s in labor,” the nurse said, confirming what David had already guessed. "You said this has been going on for, what, three hours or so?" He nodded. “Hmm. She's farther along than you’d expect for a first child. We’ll take her back to the delivery room as soon as we can, but we need to prepare the room first. If you’d like to have a word with her beforehand, this is the time.”

“Right,” Davey said, biting his lower lip. “And… she told you that it’s too early, right? That the baby isn’t due yet?”

The nurse nodded, her eyes stern but kind. “We’ll take good care of them both, Mr. Jacobs.”

“Thank you.” He took a deep breath and pushed between the curtains to see his wife. He wet his lips and tried to calm his racing heart as he sat down beside her, reaching out to grip her hand tightly in his once more. 

“She is coming too early,” Chaya said, tears streaming down her face. “This was not supposed to happen to us.”

“The doctors and nurses have lots of experience with this sort of thing,” Davey soothed, using his free hand to caress her face. “They’ll look after you.”

“I wanted to meet Miriam,” she sobbed, bracing a hand on her stomach and gasping in pain as another contraction overtook her.

“ _Chayele,_ ” Davey breathed, feeling a lump growing in his throat. “You don’t know that you won’t.”

“I wanted her to live!” Chaya wailed, her hysteria rising. “I wanted you to meet her _alive_ , I wanted us to watch our little girl grow up, and now…” She turned her face into her shoulder and cried.

“Chaya,” Davey said, unable to think of anything more to say. “Oh, _perakh…”_ He bent over her and hugged her close, and she wrapped an arm around his back even as she squeezed his hand until he felt his bones begin to bend. 

She released her grip as the contraction ended, and her hand found its way to his shirt collar, tugging him out of the hug until they were face to face. “Promise me you’ll love her no matter what, Dovid.”

“What?” 

Her dark eyes were desperate, and he found himself falling into them, losing his way. “ _Promise_ me,” she insisted, her voice cracking. “Whether or not she lives, whether or not I live—promise me you’ll love her.” 

His mouth fell open and he blinked, his thoughts racing a mile a minute. She hated empty promises, empty words, and this was something important, this was something he didn’t want to fake, this was something he instinctively wanted to say yes to, but… could he sincerely promise to love a stranger whose birth meant his wife’s death? Could he promise to love someone he’d never met and never really would? “Yes,” he said, his throat catching. “I promise, _neshama_. I promise.” 

“Excuse us, Mr. Jacobs,” an orderly said firmly, “But we need for you to move so that we can take your wife to the delivery room now.”

Davey jerked his head up towards the voice and tried to hide the fear in his eyes. “I’m coming with her.”

“No,” the orderly said, expertly maneuvering Davey out of the way and flicking up the locks on the hospital bed’s wheels. “I’m sorry, sir, but it’s not allowed.”

“What—” David panicked to find his mind suddenly blank. He spent his life objecting to things other people said, coming up with swift rebuttals and piercing retorts, using his words to make strangers see the world the way he did. But now, just when he needed words the most, they failed him. His voice died in his throat as the team of nurses and orderlies wheeled Chaya away, and he collapsed back into the rigid hospital chair, staring at the blank space where the bed had just been. He dragged his hands down his face and sat there silently, resting his elbows on his thighs and covering his nose and mouth with his cupped hands. _This wasn’t supposed to happen to us_ , he thought, repeating his wife’s words from moments before. _This wasn’t supposed to happen…_  

But it had _._ And he had no idea what to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack needs the "Strawberry Shortcake" and "Sand" mnemonic to keep dessert and desert straight. 
> 
> Hebrew words used in this story:
> 
> Neshama—soul  
> Perakh—flower  
> Yafa sheli—my beauty  
> Duvshanit— honey
> 
> Yiddish words used in this story:
> 
> "Vi geyt es"-- How are you  
> "Alts gut"-- Everything's good  
> "Na?"-- Kind of like 'well?'  
> "Beser"-- Better  
> "Rir mich nit an"-- Don't touch me (I may have gotten this wrong... I'm going off of German grammar rules here, so please correct me if I screwed it up)


	2. Chapter 2

David sat there, dazed, for what seemed like hours. If he were Jack, he’d be up and hammering away at the doors of the delivery room. If he were Les, he’d have found a way to sweet-talk a nurse into giving him an update. If he were his father, he’d never have taken his wife to a hospital in the first place, and they’d be navigating this in the safety of their apartment, in a bed she knew, surrounded by people who loved them. But he was David, just David, and just David didn’t know what to do. Just David didn’t know what came next. 

He swallowed hard, wishing he could cry, but that was something he’d never been very good at, and so he registered the throbbing behind his eyes and the ache in his throat and the pain in his heart and pushed them aside, unable to access any of the relief that a cascade of tears could bring. 

What was happening to her now? There was next to no hope for the baby, he knew that much, but for Chaya… Maybe Chaya would live? And he knew he’d promised to love their little girl—by this point he was just as certain as Chaya that they would have a girl, because her conviction was so firm that he couldn’t help but believe it was true—but he loved Chaya more. He loved her more, and he was terrified of what the death of their daughter would do to her. How would she… 

 _Emotions off, Jacobs_ , he thought to himself, standing up and quickly leaving the maternity ward.

 

*

 

His parents and Sarah arrived at the hospital as soon as could be expected given the hospital’s distance from the Lower East Side, even though he’d told them they didn’t need to come, and Chaya’s sister Golda, Golda’s husband, and Chaya’s father arrived mere minutes later. He told them as much as he knew, and then they settled in to wait. And wait. And wait.

Golda’s eyes were red, and David tried not to be jealous of how her husband was holding her tight and murmuring comforting words in her ear. Chaya’s father made a point of sitting several seats away from the Jacobs family, and David clenched his jaw at the knowledge that this man would forever blame him for whatever happened next. Sarah reached across their mother’s lap to clutch his free hand and give him a weak smile, and his father held a black hat stiffly in his hands as he sought to model composure and fortitude for his oldest son.

“Mr. Jacobs?” David’s head shot up, his eyes landing instantly on the doctor who’d entered the room. “A word, please?”

He shot his mother a terrified look and she nodded to him, ceasing the tender movements of her thumb across his fingers and letting his hand slip from her grasp.

David nodded back to his mother, squared his shoulders, and followed the doctor from the room.

“I’ll give you the bad news first,” the doctor said, stopping in an alcove just off the hallway. “Your daughter weighs four-and-a-half pounds, her lungs are very weak, and we do not expect her to live. I’m very sorry.” 

David didn’t even have to try to keep his face blank; he felt as if he’d turned to stone.

“The good news,” the doctor continued, his voice steady, “Is that she is in stable condition for now, and your wife will be absolutely fine once she’s had time to rest. We had to give her a sedative to calm her after the birth, and she is sleeping peacefully, but you’re welcome to visit both her and your daughter if you’d like.” 

“Yes,” he croaked, his eyes expressionless.

“This way, please,” said the doctor, ushering David back into the hallway and guiding him back to the maternity ward, where he ended up by the side of the same bed that had been wheeled away from him hours before. “I’ll give you some time alone,” the doctor said, turning to leave, but Davey stopped him by whirling to catch his arm.

“When will my wife wake up?” 

“I’d give her a few hours yet,” he said, preparing to go again, but David held tight.

“And the baby—my… my daughter—how long does she have?”

The doctor heaved a sigh. “I don’t like to put time estimates on these things, Mr. Jacobs. Every case is different.” 

“Please,” he begged, his stoic façade beginning to crack.

“A week?” The doctor said, raising his shoulders slightly in a helpless gesture. “A few days more? A few days less? It’s hard to say, really.”

Davey didn’t give the doctor time to take another step before he asked his next question. “And can I hold her?”

“We don’t recommend touching premature babies too much, but yes,” the doctor said, softening. “She’s all yours.”

David nodded, letting the doctor leave and pull the curtain shut. He stood for a moment, looking at his too-pale wife, her curls strung out limply on the lumpy pillow beneath her, the dark circles under her eyes far more pronounced than usual. He ran his right thumb over his fingers of his right hand to steady himself and looked over to the bassinet, where a tiny pink hat peeked out from under a tightly wrapped blanket. 

“ _Sholem Aleichem,_ Miriam,” he whispered, stepping to the side of the bassinet. He reached out a tentative finger to pull down the edge of the blanket so he could locate his daughter, gasping slightly as he accidentally brushed her cheek. “ _Dortn bistu yo,_ ” he said, a smile spreading unbidden across his face as he took in her mottled skin, her delicate, nearly invisible eyebrows, and the tiny cupid’s bow of her lips. 

“ _Meine tokhter_ ,” he cooed, sliding one hand under her head and bracing the other against her body to pick her gently up and cradle her against his chest. “ _Na, zissele?_ ” He watched her smack her lips slowly in response and marveled at how someone so small could be so perfectly formed. “ _Borekh habo,_ ” he said, his voice low, instinctively swaying side to side as he held her close. He felt her adjust against him, seeking to relax into the heat of his body, and was overcome by a sudden sense of loss. “Please don’t go, Mirele,” he whispered, bending so that his lips brushed across the top of her blotchy, bald head. “Please don’t leave us already. Please.”

 

*

 

He broke the news to his family with a steady voice, his demeanor so calm that Chaya’s father scowled even deeper, more convinced than ever that his radical son-in-law was a sociopath who had no genuine emotions. Then David led them all back to the maternity ward, stopping an orderly on the way to request some extra chairs. He made sure the family was settled in comfortably, with Golda on one side of her sister’s bed, Chaya’s father on the other, and the contents of the bassinet under the loving gaze of Sarah and Esther. Then, giving a short nod to his father, he took his leave.

“He didn’t even look at them,” Chaya’s father hissed to Golda. “Did you see that? Not so much as a look.” 

David closed his eyes as the sharp words followed him through the ward. He’d seen them earlier, held them earlier, kissed them earlier, and in doing so he had taken in every line of Chaya’s body, every curve of Miriam’s face, committed them to memory, and commanded himself to never forget. He couldn’t bear to sit there a moment longer, watching his family and hers wait for… for what? For the next moment of heartbreak? For the moment his world shattered? No. There were other things to do besides sit next to a sickbed, being mocked by the woolen sounds of healthy babies and doting parents that permeated the maternity ward, and he’d rather be doing those other things than waiting quietly for death to arrive.

He listened to the clink of the pennies as they rattled down the mechanism inside the pay phone and dialed slowly and deliberately. “Jack? It’s Davey.” 

“Hey, kid. How’s Chaya?” 

David rubbed his eyes wearily and recited the news again, his voice blank. “…just too small,” he concluded. “The best we can do is make her comfortable. We’ll take her home tomorrow or the next day, I suppose, whenever they say Chaya is ready, but…” He trailed off, unwilling to finish his sentence. 

“I’m so sorry, David.”

Jack’s voice was tinny on the line, and Davey tugged at the cord to see if that would adjust the sound. “Thanks.”

“C’n Kath an’ I come meet her on Sunday? We’ll bring food.”

David felt himself blink as if in slow-motion. Was everything in slow-motion now? Was time turning to rubber? “I don’t know, Jack.” 

“We’ll come by to drop something off unless your ma calls to say otherwise,” he said firmly. “We’ll knock, an’ if ya don’t answer, we’ll drop the food off. If ya do answer, we’ll say hello as quick or slow as you want us to. No hard feelins either way.”

“Okay,” he said. He wanted to say more, to thank Jack, maybe, or to scream at him for having two healthy children and another on the way when David had none, but his thoughts seemed to be moving through molasses, and all he could think to say was “Bye.”

“Give our love to Chaya.”

“Bye.”

 

*

 

When David returned to the bedside several hours later, his father-in-law shot up from his chair, grabbed David’s arm, and dragged him outside the ring of curtains to yell at him in Yiddish. “Where _were_ you?”

“Out.” 

“You should have been _here!”_

“Let me go.”

“My daughter woke up and her husband was gone! How do you think she feels, huh? What kind of husband does that!”

“I said, let me go.” David turned his head to stare Chaya’s father right in the eyes, and the man froze in the middle of his next sentence, taken aback by the steel in Davey’s gaze. He dropped David’s arm immediately and stalked away, mumbling something about needing a piss.

David set his shoulders and pushed through the curtain wall, his eyes falling instantly on his wife, who was sitting propped up in bed, their baby sleeping on her chest. “Chayele,” he said softly, and she cast a quick look at her sister, who understood the signal and marshaled the rest of the family outside for some fresh air.

“I’m sorry,” Chaya whispered, and Davey noticed that tears were slipping down her cheeks, and, by the looks of the damp collar of her hospital gown, they had been for some time.

“Why?” He asked, taking her hand in his as he sat down next to the bed. 

“This is my fault.”

He shook his head firmly. “It isn’t. This sort of thing happens.” 

“I failed her. My body failed her.” 

“You did all you could. Things go wrong sometimes. I will never blame you for this, and I hope you stop blaming yourself.”

She looked up at him, her eyes dull and her face wan. “I do not know if I can.”

He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it.

She closed her eyes. “Where were you?” 

He bent down, still holding her hand, and pulled a paper bag up onto the bed. “All of the clothes we have for her are too big,” he said, withdrawing a soft merino wool baby dress from the bag. “I don’t want her to get cold when we take her home.” 

Chaya opened her eyes, saw the dress, and began to cry harder, the heaving motions of her sobs waking Miriam up and making her cry, too. David raised his eyebrows at Chaya and she nodded, covering her eyes with her left hand as he lifted the baby up and into his arms. “Shhh, Mirele, shh, _zisse maydeleh_ ,” he murmured, his heart aching at how thin her cries were.

By the time he had soothed Miriam back to sleep, Chaya had fallen asleep again, too. He looked across the bed, knowing he should place his daughter in the bassinet, that she’d almost certainly been held longer than the doctor would recommend, but he couldn’t bring himself to let her go. Not when he had so little time to get to know her. Not when all he wanted was for her to stay.

 

*

 

As promised, it was Sunday afternoon when Jack and Katherine knocked on the door of Davey and Chaya’s apartment. 

David’s mother cocked her head towards her son and his wife, who were sitting pressed tightly together, holding their daughter. They shared a quick look and nodded to Esther, who rose and unlocked the door. “Please, come in,” she said, somehow managing a bright smile.

“Are you sure?” Katherine said softly. 

“Yes,” Chaya called from the bed. “Come meet Miriam.” 

“We brought roast beef and potatoes and broccoli,” Katherine said, placing a large bag on the kitchen table. “I checked with our Jewish neighbor to make sure it was Kosher, and we bought the meat from a Jewish butcher, so it should be fine, but if not—”

“It’s fine,” Esther said soothingly. “Thank you, Katherine. Thank you, Jack. That was very kind.”

“Jack took care of the cooking,” Katherine said, still a bit nervous. 

“Thanks, Jack,” David said, untucking himself from the blanket in the bed and crossing the one-room apartment to shake Jack’s hand. “You, too, Kath. We appreciate it. Come meet our daughter.”

Katherine gave him a worried smile and followed him across the room, and Jack pulled his cap off his head and wrung it between his hands before shoving it haphazardly into one of his pockets. 

Chaya smiled softly as her friends bent over the bed, and she pulled the edge of the swaddling blanket a little lower so they could see Miriam’s tiny face.

“Ohhh, she looks just like a doll,” Katherine breathed. “What perfect little features.”

Jack nodded and clapped a hand to Davey’s shoulder, gripping hard.

“Would you like to hold her?” Chaya asked, and Katherine’s eyes widened.

“Oh, _may_ I?” 

Chaya’s eyes crinkled and she held Miriam up to Katherine, whose breath caught as she settled the infant against her chest. “She’s so beautiful, Chaya,” Katherine said, marveling at how small Miriam’s fingers were compared to her own. “Tell me about her.”

Chaya patted the spot in the bed next to her, and Katherine sank gingerly down, not wanting to wake the sleeping baby. As the women began talking, Jack pulled Davey to the other side of the room, on the pretext of wanting David to help him unpack the bag of food they’d brought, although Esther was already doing that.

“How is she?” He asked gruffly. “Doctors say anythin’ else before they let you go?”

Davey shook his head. “Their estimate seems to be right. She hardly eats, and…” He rubbed at his temples and stared down at the kitchen table. “Maybe she’d be doing better if we didn’t hold her so much... we know she’s fragile, but we just can’t help it. We have so little time with her that neither of us wants to give up a minute of it.”

Jack bit his lip and nodded. They stood in silence for a moment, and then Jack took a breath to speak. He seemed to think better of it, though, and shook his head rapidly. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. I just wish there were something we could do.”

Jack froze, brushed his nose, took another deep breath, and looked Davey right in the eyes, his face grave. “Well, I don’t wanna get your hopes up, Dave, but… there might be.” 

Davey narrowed his eyes.

Jack rolled his shoulders and pursed his lips. “I wasn’t sure I should tell ya in case it gave ya false hope, but…” His eyes flicked over to the bed. “Surely some chance is better than no chance? I dunno. Anyway,” he continued, leaning in close to Davey, keeping his voice low, “We had Race an’ Spot over for dinner last night, an’ when I explained about Miriam, Spotty had an idea.”

David raised an eyebrow. “That’s better than Race having an idea, at least.”

Jack flashed Davey a quick grin, encouraged. “You know Spot used to sell at Coney sometimes, right?” Davey nodded. “Well, so he reminded me that they used to have this bit of the side show where they had babies in boxes—warmin’ boxes, like with baby chicks an’ stuff, ya know?”

“Go on,” David said, his voice skeptical.

“It’s this operation run by this doctor who specializes in babies that were born too soon. He takes in real tiny early babies, babies like Miriam—sometimes even smaller—the babies the big hospitals don’t think have a chance—an’ puts ‘em in these boxes an’ takes extra care of ‘em, an’ a lotta times they get better. They’ve got genuine, qualified nurses ta care f’r the kids, the parents c’n come visit whenever they want, an’ they keeps ‘em as long as the kids need until they get big enough to come home.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “So, uh, Kath an’ I skipped church this mornin’ ta see if it still exists, an’... well, it does. Looks legitimate, too. We even talked to the doctor—awful nice fella, name of Couney. He says there’s a space for Miriam if ya want it.” 

David shook his head. “It sounds nice, Jack, but we don’t have the kind of money for that sort of round-the-clock care.”

“It’s _free_ , Dave,” Jack said, clutching David’s forearm. “The public’s entry tickets pay f’r everything. You won’t have to pay a dime. Not for any of it.” 

David ran his tongue across his bottom lip. “I dunno, Jack. I really don’t want my daughter to spend the time she has with us… I don’t want her to be shut up in a glass box as part of some… some _freak_ show, you know? She’s not a freak.” 

“I know that, Dave,” Jack said seriously, “But give it some thought. An’ while you’re thinkin’, think about if you’re objecting to this idea for Miriam’s sake or for the sake of your own damn pride.”

David sucked in a sharp breath and clenched his fists, but Jack held his ground. After a few tense seconds, David sighed, nodded, and scrubbed at his face with his hands. “Okay, Jack. Fine. I’ll discuss it with Chaya.”

Jack squeezed David’s shoulder tightly. “Thanks.”

“Mmm.”

 

*

 

“We’ll take good care of her, Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs,” Dr. Couney said kindly, shaking Davey’s hand and nodding respectfully to Chaya. “I promise you, Miriam will get the best possible care here.” 

“Thank you,” David said, wrapping an arm around Chaya’s shoulders. She nodded to the doctor, unable to speak for the tears coursing down her cheeks. She’d been dabbing at them ineffectually for the last fifteen minutes, and her handkerchief was now too wet to be any help, but still she kept at it. 

“You're very welcome. Please come see her as often as you like, for as long as you like, whenever the park is open.”

David nodded, feeling his throat constrict.

“Get some rest,” Dr. Couney counseled, guiding them gently to the door of his office. “She’ll be here in the morning.”

Davey pulled Chaya tighter as he felt her chest begin to shudder. “Good night, Dr. Couney.” 

The door clicked behind the couple with a sense of finality, and Chaya looked up at her husband, her grief and anxiety writ plain. Davey brushed her cheek gently with his hand and turned to lead her home. She seemed to be less than she used to be, somehow, as if some of the vibrant, vital spark of her soul had been leached away by the last five days. _Five days… how has it only been five days…_  

“Is this the right thing to do?” She asked him softly on the tram, and he had to bend his head to catch her words.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I hope so. What do you think?”

She shook her head in uncertainty. “I hope so, too. I’ll go see her before work tomorrow, I suppose.” 

“Before—Chaya, you can’t possibly be going back to work tomorrow!”

She frowned. “Why not?”

“Because you just gave birth? Because you’re terrified? Because your daughter is ill and you want to spend every possible second with her?”

“Two of those things apply to you, too, and you’re going back to work tomorrow,” she pointed out.

“Yes, but it’s different,” he protested.

“Maybe,” she said. “But maybe not.”

He made an exasperated noise. 

She ignored him. “I’m going back to work. I can’t get through this otherwise, Dovid. I can’t spend my day with my nose pressed up to the glass of a box, I can’t haunt the apartment like a ghost, I can’t follow other people’s children through the streets wondering if Miriam will live long enough to learn how to run and skip and sing. I can’t torture myself like that. I just can’t.” 

He closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing. After a minute or so, he reopened them to look over at his wife, who was staring at him steadily, her dark eyes finally clear of tears. “Okay,” he said, letting her reach to hold his hand. She squeezed it gently, rubbed her thumb over his knuckles, and held it all the way home.

 

*

 

 **January 1913**  

“Ready?” David asked, smiling down at Chaya. 

“Let’s meet nephew number four,” she said, her eyes sparkling. 

David knocked quietly on the door, which was promptly yanked open by a beaming Jack Kelly. 

“Come meet Theodore!” He exclaimed. “Full head o’ brown hair an’ his Daddy’s hazel eyes!” An unexpected squeaky noise caused him to shift his attention from Chaya and Davey to the bundle in Chaya’s arms. “An’ ya brought Miriam! Hello, darlin’!” He said, bending down to kiss two-month-old Miriam on the forehead. “Come meet your cousin, lovey.” He turned into the apartment and called, “Ellie, Nicky, Miriam’s here!”

“Miriam!” Eleanor yelled, and the slaps of two pairs of small bare feet came pattering down the hallway. Ellie quickly careened into view, Nicholas hot on her heels.

“Can I see her, Aunt Night? Can I hold her? Is she talking yet? Come meet my new baby!” Ellie grabbed Chaya’s forearm and began tugging, and Chaya laughed.

“Mimi!” Nicky squealed, jumping up and down. “Mimi, Mimi!”

“Give your Aunt time ta breathe, kiddos, geez,” Jack said, amused. “An’ Ellie, don’t tear her arm off, please.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes at her father. “I’m not gonna break her, Daddy.” She stopped suddenly, her dark eyebrows drawn tightly together, and looked up at Chaya. “Am I?”

“No, Eleanor. I'm a strong woman,” Chaya said, laughing. “Here, how about we go get you settled on the couch in the living room with Miriam while Uncle Day meets your new baby, and then we’ll switch, hmm?” 

“Yeah!” Ellie said, while Nicky bobbed his head enthusiastically and scampered down the hallway. He was about halfway to the living room when he tripped over his too-fast little feet and fell smack onto the hardwood floor. 

David winced and sucked in a breath, but Jack just laughed. “Good job, Nicky-boy!” He called. “That might have been your best fall yet!”

Nicholas lifted his head and looked backwards, wide-eyed, but when he saw his laughing father, his giggling sister, and the encouraging (if slightly concerned) smiles from his Aunt and Uncle, he grinned, popped back up, and finished leading the way into the living room.

“That’ll be Miriam soon enough,” Jack said, punching Davey gently in the upper arm.

David laughed. “Let’s give her a few months,” he said. “We’re both enjoying having her home too much to want her to start running away from us just yet.”

Jack brushed his nose and nodded. “I’m so glad she’s healthy and home, Dave.”

“Me, too, Jackie,” David said, following Jack to the bedroom to meet Theodore. “Me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Hebrew/Yiddish phrases: 
> 
> Sholem aleichem—hello (lit. peace be with you)  
> Borekh habo—Welcome  
> Dortn bistu yo—There you are (I probably screwed this up, pardon my lack of Yiddish)  
> Meine tokhter—my daughter  
> Zissele-- sweetie  
> Maydeleh-- little girl
> 
> Dr. Martin Couney and his Coney Island baby incubator exhibit [were real](https://www.pbs.org/newshour/health/coney-island-sideshow-advanced-medicine-premature-babies) and existed from 1903 to the early 1940s. He'd tried to interest hospitals in his techniques and technology, but they showed no interest and generally just gave up on premature children. Couney, however, was different, and his methods worked. The public paid 25 cents to go look at the preemies, and Couney used the money to nurse the children. Parents didn't pay a cent. Couney was also ahead of his time in advocating that preemies be held and cuddled-- most doctors recommended not touching these fragile babies too much, but Couney encouraged his nurses to lavish affection on the children in their care. 
> 
> Also, apparently full-term used to be considered 37 weeks, not 40, so I'm imagining Miriam being born at around 33-34 weeks in this fic. Given that firstborn children and girls tend to be slightly smaller babies, anyway, I put her at about 4.5 pounds (2kg).


End file.
